


[kink# 89] on a plane

by winchestersinthedrift



Series: 100 Kinks Challenge [9]
Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: Banter, Character Bleed, Hand Jobs, If You Squint - Freeform, Jared vs airlines, M/M, Public Sex, and in a very lowkey kinda way, like the tiniest bit, sub!Jared, tweeting!Jared
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-05
Updated: 2016-11-05
Packaged: 2018-08-29 04:42:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 759
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8475847
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/winchestersinthedrift/pseuds/winchestersinthedrift





	

Jared,’ says Jensen, ‘it’s _fine_. I’ll just get the chicken.’

Jared looks up from his phone and frowns, thumb hovering over the screen.

‘Jensen, no. If they advertise beef as a supper option, they should have it. They should _have beef_. You can’t just let them trample all over your, your meals.’

‘I mean,’ says Jensen, placatingly, ‘“trample” is maybe a bit strong. Besides, dude, I _like_ chicken.’

‘Doesn’t matter,’ says Jared firmly, ‘it’s the principle of the thing.’ Jensen leans over a little and looks over Jared’s shoulder at the tweet he’s composing.

… _such GROSS MISCONDUCT and APPALLING DISREGARD for the dietary preferences of its clients make me ASHAMED_ …

‘Jared,’ says Jensen hastily, ‘just - put it away for a bit.’ He runs through possible diversionary tactics. Pictures of the kids? Running lines? Impromptu Facebook live stream? ‘Jared,’ he says again, ‘listen, uh, grab me down one of those blankets.’

‘Just a sec,’ says Jared, ‘just a sec justasec, about to send this.’

‘Don’t,’ says Jensen, and let’s just a hint of his Dean voice shade through. ‘Phone away, Jared. Now. Gimme a blanket.’

Jared looks at him quick and quizzical, narrows his eyes. He opens his mouth and shuts it again, puts the phone away.

‘Here,’ he says, huffing a little, pulling the paper wrapping off the blanket in the seat beside him. Blue fleece, nicer than usual cause they’re in first class today. Jensen takes it and unfolds it awkwardly, too many elbows in too small a space, so that it’s sort of covering Jared’s lap.

‘But I don’t need a b-’ says Jared.

‘Look cold,’ says Jensen, and slides his hand under the fleece and over Jared’s crotch. He finds the button at the band of Jared’s jeans, tugs it open. When he’s got the zipper down and his hand around Jared’s cock, he looks up and sideways at Jared, who’s looking at him with his mouth in a perfect O of scandalised astonishment.

‘Jen!’ he says, in something like disapproval. Jensen squeezes.

‘Don’t look at me, you idiot,’ he says, keeps his grip tight enough that he can feel the pulse of that one particular vein against his palm. Jared squeaks a little and turns his head to look at the seat-back display tracking their progress across the western states.

‘Jensen,’ he says, a little panicked, ‘Jensen Jen noooo this is such, this is such. A bad. Idea. Jensen this isn’t - we might get caught.’

‘Yes,’ says Jensen, silky dark. He moves his hand, a little, not even stroking really but letting the weight of his fingers roll up Jared’s cock in a regular tugging rhythm. _Pinkie ring middle index. Pinkie ring middle index_. Jared makes a kind of strangled grunt.

‘You don’t look very cold,’ says Jensen.

‘Jesus _Christ_ ,’ says Jared, and puts his head back against the seatrest. There’s a woman across the plane now, four seats away on the aisle, and a couple of businessmen two rows ahead of them. He’s looking hard at the display map just west of Spokane.

‘Don’t move,’ says Jensen, ‘easy.’

‘You _fuck_ ,’ says Jared, but not in an angry way. Jensen slips his thumb up a little so it runs over the head of Jared’s cock.

‘Happier yet, twitter king?’ he says, a dimple flickering in his jaw. There’s a pink flush smoking up Jared’s neck but he laughs in his throat.

‘Ooooh,’ he says, not very coherently, whispering. ‘Mm, yes, my - dick’s happy as a clam. Feels so good. Happy clam - oh, oh my - _snake_ \- oh my god Jensen, my _snake_ , it’s on a plane. Snake on a plane.’

‘Oh my god,’ says Jensen. ‘Put your leg up a little.’ Jared shifts one thigh and Jensen has enough room to stroke a little, not much, hardly at all, but it’s enough. Jared’s face goes slack and his breath is shallower now, almost panting.

‘Jen,’ he says, ‘ _Jen_.’

He’s squirming a little, and Jensen gets a boot over Jared’s shoe and holds it down to the floor. Jared moans, silently, jerking a little bit forwards. Jensen leans to whisper right in his ear.

‘Let me,’ he says, soft on the shell of Jared’s ear, and wet spills thick over his knuckles. He sits up, wipes his hand on bottom of his jeans, and looks across the seat. Jared’s eyes are still closed. 

‘Dude, why do you have a blanket, it’s summer still.’

‘Fuck off,’ says Jared, ‘now my shorts are wet.’ They’re both grinning.

They both have chicken. Jared tweets a picture of them eating it.


End file.
